


Reflection

by draculard



Category: Star Wars Legends: Hand of Thrawn Duology - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Identity Porn, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Masturbation, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Fill for the Thrawn kinkmeme:Flim admires himself in front of the mirror. Admires himself a littletoomuch.
Relationships: Flim (Star Wars)/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Kudos: 14
Collections: Thrawn Kinkmeme Fills





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

It's not vanity, he tells himself, because while he may _technically_ be looking at his own reflection, it's not himself he sees. In the mirror, Flim sees confidence and poise — straight shoulders, chin held high — hard muscles under a pristine white uniform that fits him like a glove, accentuating his biceps, the hard plans of his chest and abdomen, the slim waist and narrow hips.  
  
He sees blue skin, red eyes. He sees a high collar, starched so stiff that it brushes his jaw — _Thrawn's_ jaw, which somehow seems so much sharper than his own — the fabric coarse enough to brush against the tiny invisible hairs on his skin and tease them into goosebumps.  
  
Blue hands, broad palms, long fingers — trailing down his waist, buttons snagging gently on his skin. Landing on his hips, palming down his thighs, where he can feel the heat of arousal bleeding through white fabric.  
  
His heart races. He tries to imagine Thrawn standing in front of the mirror like this, admiring himself, touching himself through his uniform — pressing the fabric down against the sensitive skin of his nipples, grinding it against his hardening cock. He tries to imagine the things Thrawn might have done — the people he might have touched, been touched by, pressed up against — in a uniform just like this.  
  
A wet spot of pre-cum soaks through the fabric over his cock, turning it slick, increasing the pleasure tenfold. The men of the Chimaera march into his imagination one by one, joining the flushed reflection in the mirror. Men in tunics of black and olive grey, their hands covered in leather gloves, their caps pulled low over stern faces.  
  
Gloved fingers curled in Thrawn's black hair. His head wrenched back, his eyes sliding closed, his lips parting in pleasure. Thrawn, his hips pressed hard against a captain's thigh, his uniform tunic getting wrinkled as he grinds mindlessly, helplessly—   
  
Thrawn coming in his pants. A high, keening moan.  
  
_Well_ , Flim thinks as he palms himself through the last shuddering waves of orgasm, at least he doesn't need to _imagine_ what that looks like. He already knows.  
  
He winks at himself in the mirror.


End file.
